Procrasto-zilla, having tried to get comfortable during nanowrimo but was bounced outta here, once again rears his ugly little head …
December 2, 2008 § 2 Comments
Yeah, Procrasto is prowling the house, blowing his breathy flames of nonchalance and who-cares into every corner, rustling the pages on the desk, stinking up the place with his lethargy and excuses for doing nothing.
Meanwhile, there is some writing to be done.
Still you try putting it off, laughing at the deadline that was a week away, then five days, then two.
Now, it’s tomorrow.
You assume it will be fun, that the writing itself will be fun.
You can blast it out like so many pages of nano writing.
You have all the interviews done, all the facts and anecdotes.
So, tomorrow, noon-ish.
You cannot put it off.
You might get up early to work on it, but by tomorrow a.m., it should be written and ready for editing.
You walk around the house wondering why you have a slight headache.
You have the place to yourself (except for Procrasto, the evil, very un-cute lummox).
HM has gone off to rehearsal.
You are alone (again, except for that freaking lazy-ass spacehog, Procrasto.)
You get a glass of water, tell yourself to sit down now and get the articles done.
Don’t leave the chair. Just sit there and get started. The rest will flow.
The rest will flow.